


exposure

by YouAreMyDesign



Series: the pack [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Plug, Bathing/Washing, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Breeding, Breeding Kink, Breeding benches, Chastity Device, Cock Cages, Collars, Dom Will Graham, Dom/sub, Gentle Dom Will Graham, Leashes, Light Sadism, M/M, Praise Kink, Puppy Play, Sex Toys, Sub Hannibal Lecter, Top Will Graham, Watersports, Will Graham Knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-15 21:24:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18081161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouAreMyDesign/pseuds/YouAreMyDesign
Summary: Will likes that look on him, for it's how he always stares at Will, but there's something deeply, deeply satisfying at being able to have him like this, to collar and closet him and treat him like an animal.





	exposure

Will smiles, lifting his head from his desk where he'd been working on his fishing lures, at the sound of his closet door creaking. His dogs do not stir, for they know better than to go to that closet to investigate what Will keeps in there, now.

He pauses, head tilted, waiting, but doesn't hear another sound. The closet itself is small, barely large enough to fit his fishing gear and his waders. If he were to enter it, he would be able to sit with his legs curled up, his shoulders hunched so he doesn't hit the hanging garments, the long fishing rods. But there isn't enough floor space for even sitting, as Will has it now.

There's another creak, and then a soft whine, so soft Will barely hears it.

He smiles, and stands, dusting off his hands. He goes to the closet, knowing that the light will paint the silhouette of his legs beneath the door. Another whine comes, and a soft drag of fingers along the back of the door at waist height.

Will curls his fingers around the handle, twists it, and pulls the door open. Immediately the stale stink of fish and urine assaults him, sweat and grease, and he steps back as his newest pet blinks up at him. Pretty, dark eyes lift, fix on his face, almost hidden beneath the fall of greasy hair. He's kneeling, shoulders hunched over and trembling from strain, tension in his neck, around the thick, black collar that is wrapped low his throat, but when he looks up at Will, his lips part in a single, breathless sigh.

Will lifts his chin, eyes the bucket in the corner of the closet, nose wrinkling at the scent of urine. He opens the door further, and then crouches down, holding his arms out in invitation.

"Come on," he coaxes, like he would a wild animal. His dog's head lowers, nose brushing along his knuckles, and Will smiles, cups his smooth jaw, pets through his flat hair, and touches his thumb to the corner of his soft mouth. "Come here, Hannibal."

He crawls forward, sagging in relief to be able to stretch his legs, back arching as Will pets down his shoulders, over the rise of his spine. His nose presses to Will's neck and he breathes in deeply, moaning in relief at the scent of Will instead of the cloying mess he's been stuck with in the closet. Will smiles, pets over his nape, curls his fingers around the collar and digs his nails in until his puppy sighs, and licks at Will's throat.

Will's lashes lower, his breath catching at the warm touch of tongue, the subtle, eager press of firm, smooth flesh between his knees as strong fingers paw delicately at his thighs. He pushes himself to his feet and keeps a firm grip on Hannibal's neck, then reaches into the closet and hoists the bucket up. Inside, there is only liquid, a pale yellow. Not a lot, but it stinks, clearly having been there for a while.

He sighs, and leads him to the front door, sliding the handle of the bucket up to his elbow so he can open it. The dogs do rise, at that, stirring in a flurry of excited huffs, and they all barrel out around Will, racing out to the open field as Will leads Hannibal to the end of the porch, where the hose is.

He moves slowly, mindful of sensitives knees and palms, and guides him into the large basin on the edge. Hannibal crawls into it and settles, on all fours, panting, breath misting in the chilly air. He shivers, giving a soft whine, and presses his nose to Will's thigh.

Will smiles, petting through his soft, greasy hair, and lets out a low, soothing noise. "I know, I know it's cold. We won't be out here long." He cups his puppy's face, lifts him, and smiles when he receives another soft whine and a press of lips to his wrist. "But we gotta get you cleaned up."

Hannibal looks up at him, his eyes shining, nothing in them but the sweet, open adoration of a loyal dog. Will likes that look on him, for it's how he always stares at Will, but there's something deeply, deeply satisfying at being able to have him like this, to collar and closet him and treat him like an animal. Because that's what he is – some monstrous, blackened thing that hunts and kills to sate his hunger. In that respect, he's little better than a wolf.

Will eyes him for a moment, and then crouches down. "I'm going to take the collar off," he murmurs, and Hannibal's eyes flash, his lips parting to show a slip of his tongue. His shoulders curl in, fingers flexing, like he could physically stop Will if Will tried. "We don't want to ruin the leather, but I know you're going to be a good boy and stay still while I clean you up, won't you?"

Hannibal nods, spine arching in a flexing little roll, and he sinks to his elbows, stretches his arms out in front of him, and bows his head, showing Will the buckle at the back of his collar. Will's breath hitches, and he shows his teeth, pets through Hannibal's hair with both hands and then down his neck, unbuckling the collar easily. It falls into his hands, supple leather that stinks of his puppy, and he rises and sets it over the railing on the edge of the porch.

He turns, regarding Hannibal again, as he shifts his weight, spreading his knees out until they touch the edges of the metal basin. It has a high lip to accommodate a lot of water and soap, a plug at the back so Will can drain and rinse his dogs and pour the rest onto the lawn.

He smiles, and grabs the bucket.

Hannibal lifts his head, hearing the creak of the metal handle, and he tenses when he sees what Will is holding. Will crouches down next to him, grabs his chin and makes him lift to all fours again – slides his hand to the front of Hannibal's throat, which is red, the place where the collar was a little paler, a little pinker. He lifts the bucket and Hannibal's upper lip twitches, showing his teeth.

Will stands immediately, gripping Hannibal's hair instead and forcing him down, forcing him to bare his nape. "No," he snaps, and Hannibal quiets immediately. "How else are you gonna learn?"

He doesn't wait before he lifts the bucket, setting the bottom of it on his puppy's haunches. Hannibal's shoulders tense, rolling in, his knuckles turning white as he presses his fists against the lip of the basin and shudders at the press of cold metal.

Will grins, his fist tight in Hannibal's hair, and he tips the bucket with little ceremony, watches as urine trickles in a thin river down Hannibal's back. It finds the dip of his spine easily, as Will knew it wound, runs down to puddle and spill over Hannibal's neck, and shoulders, dripping down his arms. Hannibal shudders with revulsion, a soft growl of displeasure filling the air as the urine puddles at the bottom of the basin.

Will lifts the bucket once it's empty, setting it aside to rinse later, and tugs on Hannibal's hair. "Quiet," he says, the same soft way he gives his dogs commands, and Hannibal instantly obeys. He's shivering, goose bumps broken out from the cold air, and lifts his head when Will lets his hair go, and strides to the hose.

He places it in the basin by Hannibal's knee, and turns it on at the wall, smiling when Hannibal flinches at the rush of cold water. There's a thick sponge by the basin and Will grabs it, squirting a thick dollop of body wash onto it, and dips it in the water, working it into a lather between his fingers.

He settles on his knees, one arm on the edge of the basin, watching as Hannibal trembles and shakes from cold. There's a heavy flush on his cheeks, to be so dirty and disgusting, Will knows he hates the feeling of grease and grime on his skin. He is, Will thinks, more catlike that way, preferring to be impeccably groomed until Will makes a mess of him.

He lifts the hose and Hannibal turns his head away, saving his face from the cold water as Will runs the muzzle of the hose up his back, cleaning away the urine and some of the dirt. Watches the strong muscles under his skin shift and flex, wanting to get away from it. Will smiles, and runs the hose over his shoulders, then the underside of his chest. Watches Hannibal's stomach sink in, his back arch, and it just gives Will the advantage he needs to butt the muzzle up against the gleaming set of steel coils wrapped around his cock.

When soft, Hannibal is small, his cock uncut, and he flinches and whines when Will angles the water to clean his balls and soak his cock. He lets it linger, watches Hannibal's face turn in a small headshake, his eyes tight at the corners and his lips pulled back in a silent plea for mercy.

Will moves it away when he's satisfied, and Hannibal's eyes open, seeking him out. Will moves to his head, sets the sponge down and shields Hannibal's forehead with a soapy hand, and runs the hose along his knuckles, so the water soaks into Hannibal's hair, drips down his cheeks and chin. Hannibal's jaw clenches, bulging, his lips pressing together so he doesn't accidentally swallow, and once Will is satisfied that he's wet enough, he stands, coils the hose and leaves the end of it off the porch, and turns off the water.

He returns to his puppy, gathers the sponge, and presses it to Hannibal's shoulders, first, rubbing in wide, smooth circles, watching the dirt and grease get washed away. The scent of the body wash is light, inoffensive to Hannibal's sensitive nose by design – he picked it out himself, and Will smiles idly, petting over Hannibal's shivering flesh as it warms under his touch.

"That’s a good boy," he purrs, and Hannibal's throat flexes around his swallow, he lifts his head and touches his forehead to the edge of the basin, and Will rewards him with a hand in his hair, keeping him still. He drags the sponge down Hannibal's back, squeezing it so it pulses with thick clouds of foam, dripping down his flanks in tickling puddles that make Hannibal shiver and flex beneath him. He's so strong, so utterly capable, and yet for Will he lets himself be debased, touched freely, ruined, if Will wants him to be.

He cleans Hannibal thoroughly, coaxing him onto his hindlegs so he can wash his broad chest, his smooth stomach. He smiles, and cleans his neck of clinging dirt, cups his face with a gentle hand as Hannibal whines, tilting his head so he can lick at Will's damp wrist.

He stands, making Hannibal kneel again, and unplugs the bottom of the basin as he turns his attention to Hannibal's thighs. He washes them with no less care and dedication, making sure he's utterly spotless, and then he smiles, wringing the sponge and setting it to one side.

He reaches between Hannibal's legs, running lingering water over his heavy balls, up and around his caged cock. Hannibal tenses, breathing out harshly, and lowers his shoulders, arching back into the touch. Will's smile widens, and, slowly, making sure he keeps his grip secure, he runs the fingers of his other hand up between Hannibal's legs, until he finds his wet hole.

There is a thin bulge of silicone, here, with a slit in the middle so that Will can push in with his finger. Hannibal gasps, whimpering, his thighs shaking as Will presses in past the ring, into the thin innards of the toy, which is ribbed inside and out, to stimulate. Will pushes in with his finger, deeply, watching the shudder and jut of Hannibal's shoulder blades, the tension in his hips.

"Shh," he murmurs, and pushes his thumb along Hannibal's perineum, dips his fingers through the coils of the cage to touch his nails to Hannibal's sensitive cock, which twitches, so very warm, but cannot fill. "Gotta make sure you're clean all over. Be good."

It is, of course, pointless. The toy is clean and dry on the inside, and Hannibal is not dirty here, but Will indulges himself, presses in with a second finger as Hannibal tenses, stretched with no slick, too-light stimulation. He curls his fingers down, making the silicone rub behind where his thumb is pressing, knowing by the way Hannibal whines and shivers that he's found his sweet boy's sensitive spot.

He keeps rubbing, teasing at the fullness Hannibal always so desperately wants, until Hannibal freezes with a weak gasp, and there is wetness on Will's fingers that is warm and thick. Hannibal gets very wet when Will fucks him, shivers and bows his shoulders, shows his neck, and Will grins widely when his shaking lessens, when the tremors become sharp spasms, noises of complaint, too sensitive to touch.

He pulls his fingers out, and stands, grabbing the bottle of shampoo and going to Hannibal's head. He kneels down and pulls his puppy up by the chin, and slides his dry fingers between Hannibal's parted lips. Hannibal sucks on them immediately, tongue lazy and unresponsive, his flushed cheeks hollowing as he stares up at Will, pupils big and black, shining with satisfaction.

Will smiles, and takes his fingers away. "Good boy."

Hannibal's lips twitch, trying to smile. Will leans in, nuzzling his forehead, and receives another little lick to his jaw. He still shakes, but his neck is lax, his head heavy as Will works the shampoo between his palms, and then slides them into Hannibal's hair.

He has always enjoyed this, whether it's bathing Hannibal as a puppy or as a man, pressed tight to his back in the shower as Will washes his hair. There is something startingly, undeniably intimate about it, and Hannibal's low-lidded eyes are fixed on his chest, his lips parted as Will combs the shampoo through his hair, panting, as Will cleans the rest of the dirt away until all of Hannibal is shining.

He stands when he's done, grabs the hose, and rinses Hannibal down until no more soap or shampoo lingers on him. That finished, he washes out the bucket and sets it down to dry, and turns off the hose again, letting it drip off the porch and onto the lawn where the rest of the water is puddling.

He has a towel, folded by the body wash and shampoo, and he grabs it, and coaxes Hannibal to stand on shaky legs. He towels his hair, first, leaving it an askew mess that makes Hannibal smile at him. Then, his shoulders, his chest. He is not as thorough with this, admiring instead the shine of water as it clings to Hannibal's tanned skin.

"You're being so good for me, Hannibal," he purrs, dragging the towel between his closed fists, down, and cups Hannibal's steadily leaking cock, drying the cage with careful, light touches. Hannibal shivers, wincing, still sensitive, and tilts his head to show his neck. Will growls. "I'm almost done. Then you'll get your treat."

Hannibal's eyes flash, he slow-blinks, breathing out harshly as Will kneels, drying his legs, and then has him step out of the basin onto the towel. He toes curl and he presses his feet against it, rubbing almost idly to dry his soles, and Will smiles, and retrieves the collar.

Hannibal's chin lifts in readiness, and his lashes flutter as Will attaches it again. He cups Hannibal's cheeks, smoothing up through the drips at his temples from his wet hair, and he smiles, thumbs coaxing Hannibal's jaws to part, so Will can lean in and lick between his teeth.

He pulls back, smiling when Hannibal whines, leaning into him, seeking more. "What would you prefer, sweetheart?" he murmurs. "You want me to use your mouth, or you want me to try breeding you again?"

What's left of Hannibal's iris completely disappears, swallowed by black. He whimpers softly, pawing at Will's flanks. He clears his throat, swallowing harshly, and Will shows his teeth in his next smile. "Speak."

Hannibal swallows again, and rasps, throaty and weak; "Breed me."

Will nods, a sharp spark of heat igniting in his chest at the sound of Hannibal's wrecked plea. He wraps his fingers in Hannibal's hair and steps back, pleased when Hannibal immediately sinks to his hands and knees, and nuzzles Will's hardening cock through his jeans, already panting for it.

Will takes him back inside, and shuts the door so none of his other dogs venture in, and he leads Hannibal to the little bench that sits, hidden, behind the closet's open door. Hannibal climbs onto it readily, breathing hard, his chest flat to the leather brace, his knees spread wide and high, hips canted up. Will pets through his hair, leans down to nose at his neck, and takes the end of the leash that is attached to the base of the bench, between the forelegs, and pulls Hannibal's collar around so the clasp is at the front, attaching the other end to it so Hannibal can't pull, can't rear up.

He kneels at an angle, face down, shoulders lowered and ass raised so that he can take his stud's come as deep into him as possible. Will sighs, smiling widely, and pets over Hannibal's lean belly. He flicks, lightly, at the cage, just to hear Hannibal whine, and then moves to stand between his spread knees.

One hand flattens on his tense ass, spreading him apart, and Will digs his fingers into the slit of the toy, pulling it out in a slow, backward thrust. Hannibal whimpers, spine flexing as Will does it, and he sets the toy aside, admiring the little shine of slick clinging to Hannibal's rim.

He drops his hands to his jeans, growling as he unfastens them and pushes them down to his knees, then his underwear, stepping back between Hannibal's legs. He spits on his fingers and wraps a hand around his cock, stroking once, getting himself wet. Breeding animals, after all, don't get the luxury of preparation.

He digs his nails into Hannibal's hips and Hannibal moans, weakly, as he guides his cock inside. Presses, insistent and hard, at his tight rim. He grits his teeth, growling as Hannibal tightens up around him with a low whimper, the bench creaking as he jerks, clawing at the single post beneath his chest.

"Let me in, sweetheart," he growls, and Hannibal moans again, but he has no choice but to give ground, and Will manages to work himself past his rim, into the tight, velvet heat of him, and he snarls, puts his other hand on Hannibal's hip, and fucks in with a single brutal thrust.

Hannibal howls, snarling loudly as Will gives him no time to adjust. He ruts fiercely, shoving his hips against Hannibal's, clawing at him and keeping him still as Will fucks him like an animal, using him purely for the sake of his own pleasure. His orgasm is snapping at the back of his neck already, coiling tight in his stomach. He never lasts long when it comes to breeding his boy.

Hannibal's ass clamps tight around him, abused prostate battered by Will's cock, and he's sweating now, burying his cries behind his teeth, shoulders flexing every time he tries to lift his head and can't because of the leash. His thighs shake, his caged cock rutting with a groaning creak against the bench, and Will snarls, fucks back in, shoves himself as deep as he can go.

"That's it," he whispers, as Hannibal clenches up, lifts his hips as much as he can, sinks to his stomach. "Good boy, stay nice and still for me."

Though Hannibal trembles, he obeys, and gives a weak groan as Will clenches his teeth, fucks in one more time, and freezes, coming with a loud snarl. He reaches forward, yanking the leash off of Hannibal's collar, and hauls him up by his hair so he can bite down on the back of Hannibal's neck. He tastes water, clean skin, shampoo as Hannibal's hair and flesh settle between his teeth, and Hannibal whimpers, bowing his head as Will tugs on him, keeping him still as he ruts and floods him, making sure he gets his come as deep as possible.

When he's finished, he pushes Hannibal back down, and pulls out, tugging his clothes back into place. A thick stream follows him, leaking from Hannibal's red rim, and he tuts, thumbing it idly, drags his hand up to push it back in as Hannibal shivers. He reattaches the leash, first, and then adjusts the bench so Hannibal's shoulders are lowered further, his elbows on the floor, making sure he's angled high and open.

Will smiles, and crouches down, petting through Hannibal's damp hair – wet now, with water and sweat. He tilts his chin up, leans in, and places a single kiss to his warm forehead. Hannibal is shivering, eyes big and black, and looks up at Will with nothing short of devotion.

Will lets out another soothing, pleased sound, watching it settle Hannibal, who bows his head and sighs, happy to have sated Will. After another gentle brush through his hair, Will retrieves the little silicone plug and pushes it back inside him. Combined with the angle, he's sure it will hold and make sure nothing leaks out.

He gives Hannibal's thighs an affectionate brush of his knuckles, sighing in pleasure as he takes in the little puddle of slick that has leaked from his cock. He kneels down and swipes his fingers through it, and throws another towel on the rest so the dogs don't get at it, and returns to Hannibal's head. Slips his fingers through his parted lips and lets him suck as he pets Hannibal's soft hair, until the last of his tremors ease and every muscle in him goes pliant.

After another moment, he undoes the leash and eases the collar up higher on Hannibal's sweaty neck, so it doesn't dry and bother him. He pulls his fingers out and grabs the blanket from his bed, wrapping it around Hannibal's shoulders and easing him off the bench, to the floor – then, further, to the large half-crate under his desk, which has three walls so the dogs can't get at him, but will allow Will to put his legs in with him. There is a bowl for water, but it goes ignored. Hannibal crawls inside and settles on the dog bed, smiling up at Will, able to push his cheek against Will's thigh, and closes his eyes with another heavy, satisfied purr.

Will smiles, tucking his heel around his puppy's legs, pulling him in, and pets through his hair one more time, before he settles, and turns his attention back to his lures.


End file.
